Let the Music Move You
by Caseysfancy
Summary: A series of D/S one shots inspired by different pieces of music. Ranging from platonic to romantic. Subject matter ranging from dark to fluffy, depending on the source of the inspiration.
1. Hate It Here

**A/N: **I'm back. And still working on _Red and Black_. However, in these last few months, I got a new job, went on our honeymoon, and moved across country with my husband for said job. So, I unfortunately have not had any real time to dedicate to continuing that story. That and, I must admit, have had some writer's block and lack of motivation to try and push through it.

Which brings us to this series of one shots. As a an attempt to get me writing again, I've had a couple plot bunnies hop into my head while listening to music and have decided to write them down. Music in itself is a big inspiration for , it will light the fire under my butt to get _Red and Black _back on track.

As mentioned earlier, this 'book' will be a series of one shots inspired by different pieces of music. Darken and/or Shego will appear in all of them (since my focus is on them), and revolves around their relationship - both in romantic and platonic senses. But let's be serious, mostly with a romantic edge. Some one shots may involve them and their relationships with other characters in the KP-verse, too.

As of right now, this series will not be connected with my other books.

Stories will take place at various points throughout the series, which I will point out prior to the one-shot. As a general rating I'll go with 'T', but there may be a . . . er . . . hot and heavy story here and there . . . Whatever the music inspires. I'll be sure to put a disclaimer if/when that one-shot comes about.

Go forth and Read (and review, please)!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything

* * *

_I hate it here_

_When you're gone_

_..._

_I take out the trash_

_I sweep the floor_

_Try to keep myself occupied_

_Cause I know you don't live here anymore_

_-Wilco, Sky Blue Sky_

* * *

_This one-shot can take place at any point in the series, really. Rated K._

* * *

They had had another fight. A big one. They had had _big _fights before, but this one had ended differently.

"Whatever, _Drew_," Shego had spat acidly, heading for the lair door. "I'm out."

"NO!" Drakken yelled. "You know what? I'm leaving! You always leave, it's my turn to walk out on _you!"_

He shoved past her and disappeared beyond the door. She heard the hovercraft start up, and watched as it streaked across the sky from a nearby window. Shego stood at the window for a full five minutes, staring at the space in the sky where the hovercraft was last visible. She was floored and annoyed; he'd never left before. That was her schtick. Shego scowled.

_Whatta baby._

He would come back, groveling and apologizing. Then she would leave.

That was one month ago. And he was still gone. Shego was still waiting.

After a day, the henchmen stopped showing up for work. That didn't bother Shego any. She didn't pay them and she didn't like them. After three days, Shego considered leaving herself. But it was too satisfying to walk out on him; too satisfying to hear him behind her begging her to stay. She could wait a little longer . . . After all, she had disappeared for longer than a month before.

* * *

Five weeks.

Shego was beginning to get bored of sunbathing, and had started to reread magazines. Itching for something new to occupy her time, she stripped the sheets off her bed, and did the laundry _herself_. Usually, she would take her belongings to a cleaners (or if she had waited too long and was desperate, would let Drakken do it). Shego was in no way domestic. However, she found the washing and drying machines a surprisingly welcome challenge.

Later that week, after discovering an old sticky spot on the counter, she broke out rubber gloves and a bucket, and cleaned the lair's kitchen.

* * *

Six weeks he had been gone. Still no word.

In that time, Shego had mastered the washer and dryer, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned her bathroom and bedroom, organized her closet, and straightened up the living area. She checked the mail regularly, stacking bills on the counter and throwing out junk pieces. She monitored her and the lair's phone, too. She was surprised to feel a small pang of discontent resonate in her when there was (and continued to be) no correspondence from him.

* * *

Seven weeks.

Six weeks had been the longest she had ever left him – whether it had been for a side job, or as a response to an argument. The ball of disappointment was firmly settling deep in her gut. And she couldn't shake it.

She should just leave, no matter how satisfying it was to do so in front of him. This was getting ridiculous. Shego stormed into her room and pulled a large duffle out from under her bed. She through a few pairs of underwear into the bag, and stopped suddenly. She picked up her cell phone, and selected his contact information. She lifted the phone to her ear as it began to ring. Frustration grasped her throat as his voicemail picked up. She thought briefly about leaving him a scathing message, but hung up before the machine toned. She tossed her phone of the bed.

Was he really so upset with her that he wouldn't take her call seven weeks later? He was typically pretty quick to try and appease her. Her brain paused. What if he had gotten into trouble since his departure? That would be the more likely scenario. Why should she care at this point? Served him right, didn't it? Despite her stony thoughts about the theory, an almost instinctual need to go and rescue him filled her. She squashed it down, took up her phone, and headed for Drakken's office.

There was another possibility. The thought made Shego cringe internally, but she felt she had to try. Drakken's office was a mess, and she wasn't about to tackle it. For one, she was too furious with him to do him any 'favor'. Second, he was very particular about his organization (_or lack there of_, Shego thought bitterly as she sifted through desk drawers). Finally, she located the Rolodex she had been searching for and flipped through it. She stopped at the card for his mother. Sucking in a deep, mind-clearing breath, Shego typed in the numbers. Mama Lipsky picked up after two rings.

"Hello?"

"H-hey, Ms. Lipsky," Shego said quickly. "This is Shego."

"Who?"

"Shego. I work for Dr. Dr – Drew. You're son."

"Oh!" the old woman trilled. "The pretty one!"

Shego crossed her eyes, "Sure."

"How are you, dear?"

"I'm fine," Shego hastily answered. "Listen, I have a question: Drew wouldn't happen to be visiting you, would he?"

"Oh no, dear – "

"Have you heard from him lately?"

"No I haven't," Ms. Lipsky responded, a worried edge creeping into her voice. "Why? Is something wrong? Did something happen?"

"No," Shego blurted. "Nothing's wrong. He just . . . He had a work trip, and he was supposed to be back at the lai – office this morning. I haven't been able to reach him on his phone, so I thought I'd call you to see if you'd heard anything."

"No I haven't, dear," Drakken's mother said regretfully. "If I hear anything, do you want me to call you?"

"Uh, no. That's okay," Shego hurriedly said, not wanting to give the old bat her phone number. "I'm sure it's nothing. His flight . . . probably got delayed."

"Can't you check that on the internets?"

"Yes. Yes I can," Shego sighed. "Okay. Thanks, Ms. Lipsky."

"You're welcome, dear. You're such a good secretary. Take care!"

Mama Lipsky hung up before Shego could correct the 'secretary' mistake. Sighing, Shego set her phone on the desk and flopped into Drakken's high-backed desk chair. As her form sank into the fabric, old molecules of scent burst into the air around her. Unsurprisingly, it smelt like him: soap and sugar cookies. Surprisingly, the smell upset her in a saddening kind of way.

* * *

Eight weeks.

He was still gone. Still no contact. Shego was still at the lair. As week eight began to draw to a close, she realized something. When she left, she always came back; when he left, she waited for him to return. She hated being separated from him for too long, a notion that horrified her. Was she really so . . . dependent on him? It was fine if she left him, but him doing the same to her was . . . eye opening. She had gotten a taste of her own medicine. And, whaddya know, it was pretty bitter.

She hated it here when he was gone.

* * *

**A/N: **Good song. Good band. Look 'em up. Thanks for reading. Please leave a review.


	2. Bird on the Wire

**A/N: **Originally, I published this as a stand alone one-shot. However, considering it was inspired by a song, I thought I'd transplant it here. Also, I wanted to fix some pretty egregious grammar and general writing mistakes I missed the first time.

This one-shot briefly examines Shego's relationship with her older brother under pretty dark circumstances. This one takes place about one month after _Stop Team Go_.

Please read and review.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own anything

* * *

_Like a bird on a wire_

_Like a drunk in a midnight choir_

_I have tried in my own way to be free_

_\- Leonard Cohen, Songs from a Room_

* * *

Shego felt a smirk creep over her lips as she sat in the well-decorated waiting room. Given the circumstances that had brought her to the hospital, she was well aware that her reaction was wildly inappropriate. But she couldn't help it. Whenever she felt awkward or uncertain it was a natural, unstoppable response. She brought her hand up to her mouth and gently dragged it down her chin in an attempt to erase the feature. She wasn't entirely successful; as she felt the corners of her lips tighten no sooner had her hand graced them. Sighing, Shego pressed her back into the cushion of her seat, listening to the wood frame of the chair creak quietly.

"Miss Gordon?"

It was the portly, middle-aged nurse from behind the front desk. She had returned from wherever she went to clear Shego's visit. Shego uncrossed her legs, grabbed her bag and strode over to the desk.

"Just sign in here," the nurse said, pushing a sheet of paper towards Shego. "And you'll need this." Next to the paper, she set down a visitor's badge.

Shego signed her name and the time her visit was beginning, and snapped the badge to the lapel of her jacket.

"Right this way," the nurse said, rounding the desk and guiding Shego towards the doors she had appeared from not two minutes before.

Shego and the nurse traversed the lower halls of the hospital until they arrived at a bank of elevators. The nurse pressed a button, and a moment later the set of doors to the far right elevator drew open.

As they stepped inside the nurse said, "The day-room is on the third floor," and she pressed the third floor button. The elevator doors rolled shut.

"Oh," Shego muttered offhandedly, adjusting her glasses. Usually she wore contacts, but glasses seemed to skew her looks just enough that people didn't recognize her as the green villainess that was frequently bent on world conquest. It worked for Hego, too –

Shego's fingers tightened around the strap of her bag as she thought of her older brother. For the past three days, Wendell (the more mature of the twins) had been persistently calling her. She figured he had gotten her new number from her VilLinked-In account that she kept for the occasional side job.

Nosey little shit.

Two days and five-hundred-seventy-seven calls later, Shego conceded and rang him back. What could be so flippin' urgent?

The elevator came to a stop and the doors opened. The nurse escorted Shego down the length of a carpeted hallway to a door with a keypad. She punched in the code, and the door buzzed quietly opened onto a small-enclosed foyer. Beyond the second door and the windowed panels, Shego spied Hego sitting by himself at a small table towards the back of the room.

"This is Miss Shayla Gokowski to see her brother, Heath Gokowski," the first nurse said to the one attending the day room's desk.

"Alright," nurse number two said sweetly, looking at Shego. "I'll just need your bag, and I can let you in."

Shego hesitated and gripped her bag tightly. "Oh."

"It's just standard procedure," Number Two explained. "For safety reasons, mainly. I promise, I'll keep it locked up in my desk."

"That's fine," Shego replied, unslinging her purse from her shoulder.

"Thank you." Nurse number two took it and placed it out of sight.

"I have to be getting back downstairs," the first nurse said. "Don't forget to sign out."

"'Kay."

As nurse one left, nurse two said, "Visitation is an hour. We'll let you know when ten minutes is left."

"Thanks," Shego murmured, and pushed open the second door.

There were many tables scattered throughout the day-room. Most with two or three patients – identified by the hospital bands on their right wrists – sitting at them. Some were visiting with family and friends. Others were hunched over papers printed with intricate, symmetrical designs, coloring them in with brightly colored markers. Some were refusing to take part, and sat in their chairs, arms crossed, and staring out into space.

As Shego neared the table Hego was sitting at, he looked up. He looked tired. There was a swallow undertone to his usual peachy skin, and his hair looked as if it needed a washing. He wore grey sweats – which were NOT helping his complexion situation. But the most noticeable difference about him was not his ashen skin, nor his unkempt look. It wasn't the drab sweats. It wasn't even the hospital band on his wrist. It was the thick wraps of gauze taped around his wrists and forearms.

"Hey!" he said weakly, but happily. "What are you doing here?"

Hego expected Aviarius or Electronique to visit him before his little sister. He much preferred Shego's company to theirs, but she had made it clear several years ago that she wanted nothing to do with him or her other brothers.

Shego pulled out the opposite chair and took a seat.

"I should be asking you the same thing."

Hego's brows furrowed and his grin fell. He self-consciously tugged at the sleeves of his sweatshirt, trying to cover his bandages. However, his massive forearms barely allowed it.

"Heath," Shego began slowly, taking a lot of care to keep her tone from becoming sharp, "what happened?"

Hego rested his chin in a large hand, still avoiding his sister's eyes. A moment passed before he spoke.

"I don't know."

Shego swallowed. It wasn't like Hego to hold back. But then it wasn't like Hego to end up in a place like this.

"Wendell called me," she explained. "Several times. When he told me what was going on," she broke off, shaking her head. Silence befell the pair again.

"What happened?" Shego finally repeated. "I mean, when I saw you a month ago, everything seemed fine."

Hego's mouth tilted into a rueful smile, which quickly fell. He folded his arms, tucking his hands under his biceps, and shrugged.

"I guess things haven't been _fine _for awhile now," he murmured, as if embarrassed. "It's just – "

He stopped, contemplating the wisdom of opening up to her. Although, in the last two days at Go Hospital's Inpatient Center, he was realizing how closed off he had become over the years. Glossing over his emotions and needs, favoring those of the city and his brothers. And sister. It had built to a crescendo last Tuesday. And that had landed him here.

Shego waited silently, but Hego could sense her irritation simmering under the surface.

"It's just," he started, paused again, and swallowed. "It's been hard since you left."

Just as he expected, Shego noticeably bristled under his statement. She folded her arms, shoulders creeping up towards her ears, and her jaw clenched.

"I'm not blaming you," he clarified. "It's just . . . it's been hard."

"Got it."

"Shayla, seriously, I'm not blaming you."

Shego unstuck her jaw and adjusted herself in her seat. "Fine. Whatever. Continue."

"The Team, sort of, fell apart. You know that. I tried – really tried – to rally the boys together. I put on a brave face and tried to keep Team Go working, but we just . . . weren't as good. But I kept trying. Trying to make Team Go work. We had a few successes, defeating Aviarius and mediocre bank robbers. Things like that. But it was getting harder to keep doing it," he stopped here, and Shego could've sworn she saw his eyes shimmer.

Hego swallowed and brought a hand to his forehead. "I'm just . . . tired. I'm tired of banding Michael, Wendell, and Walter together. I'm tired of defending the city one day, just to turn around and save it again the next. I'm tired of being mediator for petty quarrels between the boys. It feels as if I've been treading water for years and I can't keep it up anymore. I'm slipping under the water, and sometimes I think it would be best if I just let a wave overtake me. Just end it." Hego rubbed his face wearily, as if wiping away the thought. "I'm just . . . tired."

Shego watched her brother as he quieted. Something like pity and guilt was clenching at her gut, but she shook it off. This wasn't her problem.

"Heath," she said firmly, "the _boys _are grown-ass men. It's not your job to pacify their stupid fights. It's not your job to tell them what to do. If they don't want to be a part of Team Go, fine. Whatever. That's their decision. What's more, _you _don't have to be a part of Team Go. You don't owe the city anything. Whether you know it or not, you have a life outside of 'Hego'. Just because you have super powers doesn't mean you're obligated to use them to make other people's lives easier. You can't live for other people and their wants, Heath. Stop trying to fix things that are meant to be broken. If you don't, you'll . . . always be tired."

Hego, whose eyes had fallen to the table during Shego's speech, felt the corners of his mouth tug. He lifted his gaze back to hers and said, "You have it all figured out don't you, baby sister?"

"No," Shego corrected. "But I know enough that I won't find happiness in the expectations of others. You do for you, and no one else."

"Did you get tired towards the end?"

Shego stared at her brother and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Yes."

"I wish you had stayed. But I'm glad you're happy now. You are happy now aren't you? You and that blue scientist?"

"Yes I'm happy," she answered quickly. "But I'm not . . . me and Dr. D are not . . . "

"Oh. Sorry. I just thought . . . I don't know what I thought. Sorry."

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

"Does he know where you are now?"

"No. I just told him I'd be out for a day or so."

"No big schemes you have to get back to?" Hego asked jokingly.

"I don't know," Shego sighed flippantly. "I never know with him. He tends to be all over the place. I can't be gone too long though, or he's likely to accidently blow up the lair, or get arrested, or something."

She didn't realize it, but as she spoke her lips curled up into a small smile. Hego noticed how a note of fondness crept into her tone, and it made him surprisingly content; whether she knew it or not, that scientist (Hego was reasonably certain his name was Drakken) made her happy; maybe not all the time, but enough to hold her to him. Hego was glad, and at the same time jealous, that someone had instilled in his sister a willingness to stay put.

Brother and sister talked until the visitation hour was up. Parts of the conversation were stilted and awkward, but they eventually found their way back to somewhat of a flow. As Shego sat there, she felt the usual icy exterior that built up when she was around her brothers beginning to melt away. Instead of being perpetually annoyed by him, she was starting to feel mildly connected to her older brother.

_'Oh boy. Maybe I am getting soft,'_ Shego thought. But, surprisingly, she didn't care enough to try and be mean.

When nurse number two made the announcement that there were only a few minutes left in visitation, Shego's voice stuck in her throat. Hego looked at his sister almost helplessly, not wanting her go.

"How long do you have to stay here?" Shego asked nonchalantly, trying to shake off the look he was giving her.

He shrugged. "I dunno. A few more days probably. It's not so bad, really. It's nice to sit in Group and hear that you're not as alone as you think. I have a reevaluation appointment with the psychiatrist this Wednesday. She'll decide then if I'm okay to leave. However, stipulations in leaving Inpatient are seeing a psychologist at least once a week and probably some kind of anti-depressant."

"Whatever you need to."

Hego nodded. "Thanks for coming, Shay. It was really good to see you. It means a lot. More than I think you know."

Visitors were beginning to trickle out of the day room's entrance, and Shego had gone to stand up from her seat. She paused, and was momentarily lost for words.

"Don't worry about it," she finally said. She pushed in her chair, and said, "Take care of yourself, Heath. I mean it."

"Yes Ma'am."

Shego left the room, stopping at the front desk to pick up her purse. She stopped by the desk in the lobby, signed herself out, and unclipped her visitor badge.

"Did you have a nice visit?" the first nurse asked, taking the badge.

"I did. Thanks," Shego responded, and headed out of the hospital.

Shego got into her rental car and tossed her bag onto the passenger seat. She closed her door, but didn't start up the car. She sat in her seat for a moment, staring blankly in front of her. Deep inside, Shego felt ripples of emotional anxiety begin to bubble up. Inhaling deeply, she gripped the top of the steering wheel, and set her forehead on her white knuckles. She blew out a steady stream of air and pressed her face against her hands. Three minutes passed before she sat up again.

Once she felt back in control, Shego stuck the key in the ignition. The engine turned over, she set the clutch to drive, and began her journey back home.

* * *

**A/N: **Check out Katy Sagal's cover of this song. It's on iTunes and Youtube. It's soul-shaking. Thanks for reading!


	3. Kiss with a Fist: Part I

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who reviewed and/or favorited these lil' dribbles :)

First part in a three part series. Which doesn't technically make this (or the following installments) 'one-shots', but as the scenario was inspired by music, here it is.

Let me clarify that I know nothing, _nothing,_ about fighting – karate, tae qwon do, whatever. So, please forgive any incorrect descriptions or cues. My bad.

Please read and review :)

* * *

_My black eye casts no shadow_

_Your red eye sees no blame_

_Your slaps don't stick_

_Your kicks don't hit_

_So we remain the same_

_Blood sticks, sweat drips_

_Break the lock if it don't fit_

_A kick in the teeth is good for some_

_A kiss with a fist is better than none_

_\- Florence + the Machine, Lungs_

* * *

**Kiss with a Fist - Shego's Side**

Shego didn't know how, but Drakken had convinced her to teach him how to fight. She wasn't sure why he felt the need, for the entirety of their professional relationship he had been perfectly content letting her fight his fights for him. Why the sudden change?

She was methodically wrapping her hands in a long, thin swatch of black cloth when Drakken entered the lair's gym. She through him a brief glance before turning her attention back to her hands; her jaw locked.

"Should I do that, too?" he asked, walking up.

"Sure," she replied offhandedly, tossing him two rolls of the same cloth.

He caught them in a fumbling fashion, nearly dropping them several times. A vine shot out and caught and snatched up a wayward roll, and handed it to him. He mumbled a 'thank you', eying the cloth, unsure of how to continue. He looked back to Shego, who had completed one hand and was onto the next.

"Erm –" he uttered. "How do I – "

Without saying a word, Shego took up his hands and quickly wrapped them. "Why do you want to do this, Dr. D?"

"I just thought – er – just thought it might be a useful skill. And if the buffoon can do it – "

Shego fixed cool, green eyes on him, "One: The buffoon has some mystical monkey bullshit helping him along. Two: He's eighteen, and you're old."

Drakken rolled his eyes. "I'm not _that _old, Shego. Besides, I have these," a vine slithered back out from under his shirt. "I figure this whole 'plant thing' paired with some fighting skills would make me a formidable opponent," he concluded, sounding too confident.

Shego was still unconvinced and unimpressed. She sighed and nearly groaned, "Alright. Let's do this."

Those stupid plants . . .they were one of the many reasons she had sunk into a foul mood as of late.

"Okay. First thing's first: Throwing a punch," she stated, turning to face him. "Get into a staggered stance."

"With my left foot, or my right?" Drakken asked, shuffling his feet.

"Your dominant one is behind," an annoyed edge was sharpening her tone.

That stupid crack that stupid alien through at her on the space ship . . . _Drakken's battle mate . . . Pe-shaw. . . _

Apparently that was coming true, but only in the most literal of senses. They weren't 'mates' in any other way – no matter what Kimmie thought. _He _had made sure of that.

"You're gonna root your feet firmly into the ground," Shego instructed, wiggling her heel against the floor. Drakken mimicked her. "Then your gonna bring your fists up to protect you face."

Shego drew her curled hands up to her face in a defensive manner. Again, Drakken copied her, his dark eyes flicking between his own hands and hers.

Despite her clear opposition to Warmonga's and the Princess's jibes, Shego knew there was truth rooted in them – not that she would give them the satisfaction of admitting it. She had been with Drakken for six years (nearly seven!). He had hired her when no one else would. Breaking into the villain business had been harder than she originally anticipated. She found her new boss peculiar and annoying. Those initial reflections had not ebbed, but over the years she had developed an attachment to him that baffled her. She would threaten to leave, but ultimately stayed. She would walk out on him, only to walk back in. There was something about him that she . . . liked. He was her best friend, and she knew she was his.

Slowly, and unknowingly, that attachment transitioned into attraction. Shego wasn't aware of it until that stupid alien entered their lives for the first time. Hearing that Drakken had been broken out of prison and had supposedly found a new sidekick dug at her. Was he really so upset that he had replaced her? _She was going_ _to break out of jail!_ . . . eventually.

Listening to Drakken rant about how much better Warmonga was than Shego bothered her more than she expected. She valued his opinion of her (which came as a shock), and hearing him compare her to the green alien made her stomach drop with hurt and embarrassment. She found herself jealous of how he praised his new henchwoman, how he watched her with wide-eyed amazement.

After that plan had failed, and Warmonga disappeared back into the galaxy, Shego had (for the most part) stayed by Drakken's side. They were even, she figured. He seemed to think so, too. However, she seemed to be unable to squelch the growing feeling of infatuation. She felt a need to prove herself to him. She wanted his attention and admiration. She wanted him to see her.

She tried to ignore it. She never acted on these burgeoning emotions. She tried to play it off as a fluke; an unfortunate side effect of spending too much time together. She knew they spent more time together than employer-employee ever should, but she couldn't think why she hadn't put a stop to it . . .

For another thing, he was so . . . embarrassing, so completely unaware of himself. But even those character flaws (when they weren't at her expense) she found unexplainably endearing.

When Drakken had been floated up to that spaceship about a month ago, a panic unlike anything else had gripped her. She needed to save him. For the next several hours, she ran off of pure instinct: Find Princess, get rocket, board space ship, find Drakken. Which is why when she saw him, she ran towards him, arms extended. Her panic and excitement precluded her from caring about maintaining her aloofness. He was okay. He was okay!

Her heart skipped a beat as he approached her in a similar fashion. But he stopped just short of scooping her up in his arms, his face dropping horrifically. He quickly turned away, and she snapped out of it, distractedly running her fingers through her long black hair. A cold spot pricked her stomach, but she ignored it.

"Thumbs on top, Dr. D," Shego chided.

She broke her stance, reached forward, and extracted Drakken's thumbs which were wrapped under his fingers. Coming into his personal space and touching him sent an unwelcome ripple of nervousness down her spine, and she felt that dreaded cold spot return. She withdrew quickly.

Then they had saved the world. He had succeeded, and his confidence about the whole thing was obnoxious . . . and sexy. The awards ceremony was next.

_That stupid awards ceremony . . ._

It weighed heavy on her already scant patience. What was most frustrating about it was it had the potential to be such a wonderful moment, too. Leave it to Drakken to fuck it up.

A newly acquired botanical appendage reached for her, snaked around her slender waist, and drew her into his chest. Drakken looked at her, a surprised, bashful, goofy smile spreading across his face. She looked up at him, an uncharacteristically demure grin molding her lips.

_This feels nice. This feels . . . right._

The vine uncurled, releasing her, but was soon replace by Drakken's hand resting atop her hip. Butterflies fluttered furiously in her chest, and she leaned against him; cameras flashing erractically around them.

Shego reset herself in her fighting stance and looked at him, hoping her face was remaining neutral. She could feel a flush beginning to rise in her chest and cheeks, and a tightness bind her throat as the memories of the ceremony and after party flickered in her mind.

"Hands up!" she snapped.

While Shego had been adjusting his hands, Drakken's fists had dropped to chest level. He jumped at her outburst and brought his hands up so quickly that he accidently bopped himself in the nose.

"OW!"

"Dr. D," Shego sighed, "it's your opponents job to punch you. If you're gonna beat yourself up, I can't help you."

"You startled me, Shego!" Drakken cried nasally, his hands cupping his assaulted nose.

He approached her later that night during the ceremony's after party. To clarify his actions.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," he began nervously. "I haven't gotten this whole 'plant thing' down yet."

On cue, a ring of yellow petals burst from his neck to frame his face. Groaning, he ripped the them away. Shego smiled.

"It's fine, Dr. D," she snickered.

"I – er – just di-didn't want you to think that I was . . . .coming on to you or something."

"Oh."

"Because that wasn't my intention! The plants just . . . .got away from me," he explained, praying she wasn't mad.

"It's okay, doc," Shego assured kindly. Despite her unruffled answer, that cold spot was taking shape in the pit of her stomach. "I didn't think it was anything like that."

"Good," Drakken sighed, appearing relieved. "I was worried there for a moment."

"No worries, chief," she said, gently knocking her partner on his shoulder as she walked back into the party.

She skirted the floor, wound around partygoers, and found her way to the restroom. She locked the door and stood still for a moment, allowing the cold pit to reach up to her chest. She sank to the floor and cried.

Shego felt herself flush further. How stupid, crying over a man. Not just any man: her dopey, middle-aged boss. _How freaking lame was that?_ Now she was just mad. How could she let him upset her like that? How could he not think of her as more than an employee after all this time?

"Shego?" Drakken asked nervously. "Are you okay?"

Shego blinked. She shook her head and mumble, "Sorry. I spaced out for a sec . . . Where were we?"

"Fists up," he answered, showing her that he had lifted his hands back to the appropriate spot.

"Right. So, you wanna punch with your dominant hand. It's back farther than the other in this stance, so you're gonna be able to build more momentum and power behind it."

She shot her right arm forward, and Drakken jumped as her fist came a mere couple inches from his face.

"The drawback is just as important," she continued, pulling her arm back to its starting position. "Your hit will generate even more force if you retract quickly. I know that sounds weird; but, if your hand lingers in the strike, the more likely you will hurt yourself."

The more Shego spoke, the more frustrated she felt herself becoming. She heard her voice involuntarily becoming higher as her throat constricted. Why didn't he like her the way she liked him? She couldn't believe this idiotic attraction was only on her end. Was he really so oblivious as to why she went to space to find him? Did he not see that she ran towards him with open arms intentionally? Did he not know that when she didn't push away from him – when she _leaned_ into him – that she was sending him a signal? Even after weeks of remaining in the lair with him despite the lack of nefarious activity was a sign? Did he not realize how lucky he was to have her? She could have anyone!

He was such an idiot.

An idiot she wanted to know in a different way now.

Anger was building in her and a familiar pulsing heat was twitching the muscles in her forearms, hands, and fingers. She was beginning to shake as she stared into his face, his stupid blue face. His stupid, increasingly appealing, blue face.

She didn't realize that she'd been silent for far too long. Drakken looked over his knuckles, worried. He lowered his hands and asked, "Shego, are you sure – "

He was cut off by Shego's fist slamming into his mouth.

* * *

**A/N: **Next up: Kiss with a Fist - Drakken's Side


	4. Kiss with a Fist: Part II

**A/N:** Thanks for the reviews and story favs/follows so far, readers! Here is Part II of III. Please review!

* * *

_My black eye casts no shadow_

_Your red eye sees no blame_

_Your slaps don't stick_

_Your kicks don't hit_

_So we remain the same_

_Blood sticks, sweat drips_

_Break the lock if it don't fit_

_A kick in the teeth is good for some_

_A kiss with a fist is better than none_

_\- Florence + the Machine, Lungs_

* * *

**Kiss with a Fist - Drakken's Side**

Drakken felt his stomach give a nervous tremble as he pulled a black T-shirt over his head. He reached for a pair of dark gray sweats, and put those on, too. He couldn't believe Shego had agreed to teach him how to fight. He couldn't believe he'd actually asked her. He was _so _not a fighter. Physically, anyway. He could yell and scream all day long, but actually putting his 'dukes up' was not natural to him.

"Why am I doing this?" he muttered to himself as he left his room.

The question was rhetorical. He knew why he had asked Shego: he was trying to restore some normalcy back into their relationship. Things had gotten . . . weird since the invasion and ceremony. He wasn't sure why, but he thought taking an interest in one of Shego's hobbies may start to iron things out.

She was already in the gym when he entered through the double doors. She didn't look up, instead she continued to wrap her hands in black fabric. She was wearing stretchy, black capris, and a black tank top. Her dark hair was pulled back into a messy bun; fly-aways and loose bits held back with a head band. She looked good. She always did. Drakken felt his stomach quiver again as he approached, and she tossed a glance his way.

"Should I do that, too?"

"Sure," and she threw him two rolls of the same cloth.

Drakken jerked forward, grasping at the rolls in a clumsy fashion. As he struggled, a vine burst from underneath the collar of his shirt and deftly caught the wayward rolls. He muttered a thanks as the vine handed him the fabric and retracted. It was things like that: why couldn't she just _hand _him the swatches? She'd become so standoffish, barely looking at him. Had he done something? He looked down at the black rolls in his hands.

"Erm – How do I – "

Shego abandoned her own hand wrapping and began winding the swatch around his hands without speaking. He felt a flutter in his chest as her skin grazed against his. They were almost feverish in their warmth – a side effect of her powers, he knew. Whenever they had physically interacted, he always became self-conscious and hyper-aware. Did the relative coolness of his skin feel clammy? Did the calluses on his palms disgust her? Did he smell okay? Was he breathing heavily? It felt like he was breathing heavily . . .

She had this effect on him. More so lately. It had begun after the whole cloning debacle – when he realized that he _needed _her. When she had returned with that orange beefcake in tow, an unfamiliar squeeze of jealousy seized his heart and stomach. Ever since then – after that oaf had been scared away by Drakken's experiments and Shego's temper – the new feeling increased in its prevalence, coming to an anxiety-inducing crescendo during the brief period she had been under the influence of Bortol's mood altering device. Now it was building up again, ever since he'd been abducted a little over a month ago.

"Why do you want to do this, Dr. D?" Shego asked, bored.

Drakken frantically searched his mind for an excuse. "I – er – just thought it might be a useful skill. And if the buffoon can do it – "

He liked her. A lot. He didn't like the word 'crush', it felt too juvenile; but he couldn't come up with a better word to describe the feeling. He didn't think 'infatuation' filled the bill, either. He'd always associated that word with emotions that were fleeting and superficial. It bothered him when he couldn't categorize things. All he knew was that whatever he felt for his sidekick was, at the least, wildly unprofessional. He had felt this way for a while.

"One," Shego cut in, "the buffoon has some mystical monkey bullshit helping him along. Two: He's eighteen, and you're old."

Drakken felt his eyes tick up to the ceiling in annoyance. "I'm not _that _old, Shego."

There was that, too. It was bad enough that he lusted after a woman that was _way _out of his league, but she was fifteen years younger than he. He didn't want to come across as a 'creepy old guy'.

"Besides," he continued, "I have these." A blue-green vine emerged out from the hem of his shirt. "I figured this whole plant thing, paired with some fighting skills would make me a formidable opponent." He prayed he sounded sure of himself. Improvisation was not his strong suit.

Shego finished wrapping his hands, sighed, and said, "Alright. Let's do this."

Drakken's vine recoiled back to his person and disappeared. He was beginning to learn how to control and manipulate them better. He hadn't had that ridiculous ring of garish, yellow petals sprout up in sometime. His new power had been quite problematic a few weeks ago.

"Okay, first thing's first," Shego said, spinning around to face him. "Throwing a punch. Get into a staggered stance."

Drakken looked down at his feet. "With my left foot, or my right?"

"You're dominant one is behind you."

He flinched at her acidic tone. Why was she so angry? His question didn't warrant such a hateful inflection. What did he do? Prior to the invasion and ceremony, they had been getting along rather well; great, he would even dare to say – by their standards. Their petty arguments had decreased in frequency, and she had even _voluntarily _gone to karaoke with him a couple of times. It seemed that they had moved past the unpleasantness of the whole 'Warmonga' incident.

Then the invasion happened, and he was swept up into the Lorwardian spacecraft. Stuck in the brig with Kim Possible, two thoughts consumed him (three, if you counted the shock of being abducted by aliens). The first being would Shego rescue him, or would she leave him like with their last prison stint? Second: would he ever see her again? He had difficulty imagining his life completely void of her. As mouthy, irritating, and insubordinate as she was, she was his best friend; and what was more he had a crush . . . Gah! Stupid word! . . . on her. His heart ached to think that he would never see her again, never hear her again, never feel her too-warm hands again. He whole-heartedly regretted that he didn't have the guts to tell her before.

"You're gonna root you feet firmly into the ground," Shego instructed. "Then you're gonna bring your fists up to protect your face."

He watched as she lifted her balled up hands to her face, and did his best to mirror her.

When he and Possible had managed to escape from their binds, a flame of hope dared to ignite in Drakken's chest. Then he saw her. He barely allowed himself to believe it, his breath sticking to his lungs at the sight of her. Without thinking, he charge for her, calling for her. His arms may or may not have been extended, he couldn't quite remember. His mind had been so fogged with happiness and relief that the memory was nearly irretrievable.

Then he snapped out of it, and hit the breaks. What was he doing?_ This was Shego! _She wasn't a 'hugger'. He quickly turned away from her, muttering something about time.

"Thumbs on top," Shego corrected, stepping forward and taking his hands up in her again. His stomach roiled nervously as she placed his thumbs atop his knuckles. He noticed that her brow crumpled slightly has she fixed his hands, and that she shook herself out as she returned to her stance. His heart dipped. Apparently, she did find him repugnant.

When she regained her footing, he saw that a pink flush had tinged her pale cheeks. It wasn't unlike the one that had spread across her face when one of his vines had drawn her to his side at the award's ceremony. He hadn't meant for it to happen. He was nervous to start with, and when he looked to Shego – who was inarguably stunning in her slinky, green dress – a vine shot from him and pulled her to his side. As if that hadn't been bad enough, the stupid vine saw fit to bloom a silly daisy. He was mortified. All he could do was try to apologetically smile at her. He was stunned (and thrilled) to see her grinning back at him with a genuinely happy expression. To his mind, she had never looked so appealing, so attractive than she did at that moment. The vine unwound from them, and his hand fell to rest on her hip. It was automatic, an accident. And he braced for Shego's retribution, but it never came. She let him keep his hand where it was, or she didn't realize what happened. Either way, he felt a flushing heat rise in his neck, and external noises of reporter's questions and flashing camera bulbs were drowned out by his heartbeat pounding in his head.

"Hands up!" Shego yelled.

The outburst spooked Drakken out of his head, and he accidently punched himself in the face. He yelped and clasped his hands over his nose.

"Dr. D, it's your opponent's job to punch you. If you're gonna beat yourself up, I can't help you."

"You startled me, Shego!" he yelled back. Shego rolled her eyes, and waited for him to regain his composure.

As Drakken willed the pain deep within the bridge of his nose to subside, he felt he had made the right choice when he had clarified his plants' actions during the ceremony's after party. There was just no way she liked him on the same level he liked her. It wasn't possible. If she did, surely she would've displayed some sympathy to him knocking himself in the face. The way she had nonchalantly shrugged off his explanation for his plant's actions – how it was a fluke, and by no means intentional – and how she had sauntered away only reinforced his suspicions that what he felt for her was his, and his alone. He watched her go, watched how her dress pulled with the sway of her hips, how her hair gently bounced with each step and caught the moonlight. Something like a bowling ball settled in his chest, and he was no longer excited about being recognized as the world's savior.

As the pain in his nose finally began to subside, he noticed that Shego had a strange, glazed look on her face. The pink flush was still settling in her cheeks, and her eyes had turned glassy. He wasn't certain, but it almost looked as if she was holding back tears . . .

"Shego?" he carefully asked. "Are you okay?"

She blinked furiously, and shook her head side to side. When her attention was back on him, she murmured, "Sorry. I spaced out for a second . . . where were we?"

"Fists up," and he showed her.

"Right. So, you wanna punch with your dominant hand." Shego wiggled her right fist. "It's further back than the other in this stance, so you're gonna be able to build more momentum and power behind it – "

Without warning, her right arm shot forward and Drakken jumped as a second fist threatened his nose.

"The drawback is just as important. Your hit will generate even more force if you retract quickly," Shego explained, pulling her arm back to its starting position. "I know that sounds weird, but if your hand lingers in the strike, the more likely you'll hurt yourself."

Drakken listened to her. He heard her. He also heard how her voice was becoming tighter, more emotional; like she was on the verge of tears. Drakken looked at her, stunned and confused. He dropped his fists again.

"Shego, are you sure – "

Before he could finish – before he could defend himself – Shego's fist lurched forward again. This time it hit him squarely in the mouth.

* * *

**A/N: **Up next, Kiss with a Fist conclusion. Please leave a review on your way out :)


	5. Kiss with a Fist: Part III

**A/N: **Hi. I've been here the whole time, what're you talking about? *shifty eyes*

Below is the third and final installment to the elongated "one-shot" of _Kiss with a Fist_ by Florence and the Machine. It gets a little steamy, but nothing detailed enough to garner a 'M' rating. So proceed freely knowing good ol' PG-13 lovin' lies ahead.

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Drakken or Shego.

* * *

_My black eye casts no shadow_

_Your red eye sees no blame_

_Your slaps don't stick_

_Your kicks don't hit_

_So we remain the same_

_Blood sticks, sweat drips_

_Break the lock if it don't fit_

_A kick in the teeth is good for some_

_A kiss with a fist is better than none_

_ \- Kiss with a Fist, Florence + the Machine_

* * *

Drakken let out a strangled cry of pain and disbelief. The distinct metallic taste of blood coated his mouth as Shego's fist withdrew.

"WHAT THE H – " Drakken screamed. He felt an unusual pull at the corner of his top lip, and he was sure it was split. Before he could complete his outcry, Shego's fist came at him again. This time he dove out of the way.

"Shego," he gasped, "what're you doing?"

"_You_ wanted to learn how to fight, Drakken," Shego growled, lunging after him. "You never know when your assailant is gonna strike!"

She went to punch him again, but Drakken rolled out of the way and her claws connected with the soft floor mats. There were a few more aggravating moments where Drakken merely evaded Shego's advances, leaping and somersaulting out of her path. She was too mad to accurately time or aim her hits. She opted to not use her plasma, either. She didn't want to _actually_ hurt him, just beat him up a little for making her feel hurt and insecure.

Shego let loose a scream as Drakken ducked and ran from another assault of hers. "WILL YOU FRIGGIN' FIGHT ALREADY?!"

The sheer ferocity of her voice made him freeze. He watched – as if in slow motion – Shego run towards him, fist curled, drawing back, preparing for another blow. Is that what she wanted? She really wanted him to fight her? She wanted him to really hit her? When he had asked her to teach him how to fight he hadn't meant her!

He didn't know if he could do that . . . but he also didn't want her to hit him again.

"She-Shego," he whimpered.

But she didn't hear him, she continued to fly towards him, teeth bared and eyes wide with fury. Drakken felt his hands curl into fists, and came to rest in front of his face. He closed his eyes tightly, held his breath, drew his right hand back, and thrust it forward. He felt it connect with something soft, smooth, and firm. He withdrew quickly. When he didn't feel Shego's hands on him, he cracked an eye open.

The sight before him made his stomach drop.

Shego was picking herself up off of the floor, her hand cupping the left side of her jaw. She wore a dazed and stunned expression. Eventually her eyes found Drakken's, looking at him in disbelief.

Drakken gulped. He had just hit a woman! Not just any woman – _Shego!_ A woman physically capable of ripping him limb from limb; a woman unbound by the scruples that would keep her from doing so.

"She-Shego," he whimpered again, "I'm sorry. I – " He stopped short again, noticing the crazed smile crossing over her face.

"Don't be sorry," she breathed.

She was slack jawed still, her hand holding her assaulted cheek. Her fiery green eyes darted across his face. She actually looked impressed, pleased. Drakken felt his shoulders tense, unsure of what to expect.

As before, Shego lurched forward without warning, her nails bearing down on him. Drakken yelped, and stepped back, his arms flying up to protect himself. Without realizing, his vines burst forward, wrapped themselves around the airborne Shego, and hurled her across the gym.

"HEY!" she yelled indignantly once she was back on her feet. Her arms were taut at her sides, fists clenched tightly. "We didn't say anything about powers!"

"We didn't say anything about actually fighting each other!" Drakken countered. "I just wanted a lesson!"

"Learn by doing, Dr. D!" Shego roared, her hands igniting in fluorescent green plasma.

Drakken gulped and took a couple cautionary steps back. Shego let loose two fiery blasts, and Drakken dove out of the way. He looked over his shoulder at the new smoldering, gaping halls in his lair's wall, and growled.

"That's coming out of your paycheck I hope you know!"

He turned his head and yelped as he was bull-rushed by a flash of black. He grunted as Shego's petite, yet dense, body slammed his back into the floor. She pinned him down with her legs and punched him in the face for a second time – same spot.

Dimly, Drakken's mind flashed back to his formative years where Lee Jepson, the elementary school bully, would hold him down in a similar fashion and wail on him. He got angry. He didn't want to be someone's punching bag again, and his right arm flew up and smacked Shego in the side of her head. The force dislodged her, and she rolled off to the side, clutching her ear.

Drakken got onto his knees, and a vine slipped out from under his shirt, and wrapped itself around Shego's ankle. The plant snapped like a whip and flung Shego across the gym, into the far wall. Shego landed with a groan. She was vividly reminded of when Warmonga threw her through a door . . . and that cold pit resettled in her stomach at the thought. Shego brought herself to her hands and knees, fighting the reemerging feelings of hurt and disappointment. Shego decided to mask them, as she usually did, with anger. After a few breaths, she looked up. Drakken had gotten back onto his feet; the vine still hovered by his side. Shego picked herself up, and faced him. Her hand was still gently rubbing her ear, and Drakken felt his resolve falter.

"Are you alright?" he asked, the vine drooping a little.

"Yes," Shego snarled, dropping her hand.

As Shego dropped her hand, Drakken brought his up to his jaw and lips. Now that the danger seemed to be gone, his adrenaline was wearing off and the throbbing in his mouth and cheek were not as easy to ignore. He felt a small whimper ripple in the back of his throat as the ache settled deep into his teeth. He looked back up at Shego and saw that her face had settled into a deep, dark scowl.

"WHAT?"

Shego didn't answer. Instead she averted her gaze and began stalking across the gym towards Drakken. He flinched as she breezed by him, again the malice seeming to waft off of her like a violent perfume. She didn't spare him a glance and he watched how her shoulders and back seemed to grow even more tense with each step she took.

"What did I do?" Drakken cried after her. Shego stopped short of the door, but didn't turn around to look at him. Her fingers twitched at her sides.

How could he be so dumb?

She spun on her foot and stormed over to Drakken. Once in range, she raised her hand and slapped him so fast - _so hard_ \- that it didn't register. All Drakken knew was that one moment he was looking at Shego, the next his head was spun to the right, and the strange numbness that precedes intense pain was spreading across his face. To him, a slap seemed much more personal than a punch. As if the reason Shego had been so moody lately had been balled up in her fist, and now hitting him with an open hand was a way of opening up.

What did she want?

He felt a few small streaks sting on the apple of his cheek; she had taken special care to claw at him, as well as slap. He felt tiny droplets of blood begin to surround his eye. He squeezed his eyes shut as the stinging pain mounted. He was trying so hard to keep calm. His entire body quaked from the inside out and his hands curled into taut fists at his sides. Drakken's eyes snapped open, and before he could really consider the ramifications of his actions, he punched Shego in the face.

She cried out and stumble back, clutching her right eye. Instantly, Drakken recoiled.

"Shego!" he gasped. "I'm sorry! I – I don't know what came over me!"

He went to take cautionary step forward to inspect the injury, but was immediately tackled to the floor. Drakken tensed as he waited for the abuse to begin, but it never came. Belatedly, he realized that the only pressure he felt – besides being pressed against the floor – was on his mouth. He could feel his split lip being pulled open again, and he carefully peeked through his closed eyelids. What he saw made his eyes snap open in shock.

Shego's green eyes, fiery with determination, were boaring into him, her lips pressed fully and unapologetically on his. She gave him a look that dared him to try and stop her. Shego slipped a hand underneath Drakken's head and closed her eyes as she stretched her lips across his, forcibly deepening the kiss.

Finally, Drakken ceded. He slackened under her, closed his eyes, and did his best to catch up with her mouth.

"_This . . . is nice,"_ he thought. He was still confused, unsure of how or why she would go from wanting to beat the snot out of him to kissing him like this. _"Is this what she wanted?"_

Shego pressed the length of her body against his, giving Drakken the confidence to wrap his arms around her and hold her securely. Apparently, this is what she wanted. Had he read her wrong all along? Was that demure smile at the awards ceremony more than he dared to believe? She flew to space to rescue more than her employer? He felt her tongue run along his bottom lip. Drakken obliged, opening his mouth against hers. As their tongues tangled between them, Drakken pushed away from the floor, rolling Shego onto her back.

Not that she would tell him this, but Shego was privately ecstatic that he took some level of initiative. She wrapped her legs around his hips, crossed her ankles together, and held onto him even tighter, enveloping his mouth hungrily. She had needed to do something. The discomfort was too great to bear. She couldn't muster up the vulnerability to verbally tell him, "I want you. You hurt me, but I still want you." She decided it was easier to bypass the emotional conversation and get straight to the fun stuff. Again, not she would tell him this, but she was absolutely relieved that he pawed at her body and kissed her as feverishly and unrelentingly as she did him. She could feel her right eye throb, beginning to swell up, but she really didn't care. She got what she wanted.

Shego gave a small jump and gasped into Drakken's mouth as his hand purposely groped her right buttock, using the leverage it gave him to grind against her pubic bone. Shego groaned and pulled his head closer to hers, pushing her tongue as far as she could into his mouth. She was delighted that he seemed as undone as her, but she was ever so slightly unnerved by how confidently and unapologetically he was handling her. She didn't think he had much experience . . .

"_Stop thinking about it, and just enjoy,"_ a voice that sounded suspiciously like her own whispered in the back of her head. Drakken kissed her deeply, and then took his hot mouth to that spot on her neck between her jaw and jar. He tongued it, and then sucked hard. Shego gasped, arching her back instinctively. She felt her nipples pulling hard at the tight fabric of her sports bra.

The need to remove clothes became and be touched more became overwhelming. Breathing raggedly, Shego pulled Drakken's face back up to hers and began to devour it again, opting for actions instead of words to get her point across.

Who needed words when you had fists and lips?

* * *

Almost an hour later, Drakken and Shego found themselves lying next to one another, staring at the ceiling above Drakken's bed. Both breathing heavier than normal, bemused and befuddled expressions covering their faces. The red comforter that covered their naked bodies was singed and smoking; a great many leaves an flower petals were strewn around the room.

It was by no means a conventional start to a relationship, but neither did conventional very well.

**A/N: **I do have a couple other plot bunnies up my sleeve, so keep a sharp eye out. Thank you for reading, please leave a review :)

(For inquiring minds, I will be updating _Red and Black _in the next month or so)


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